Total pages in book: 179
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 165476 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 827(@200wpm)___ 662(@250wpm)___ 552(@300wpm)
Cole leaned back, as if he expected a punch to fly his way. His lips set as he watched Ned with worry from behind strands of dark hair that had gotten all messy and now fell into his face. He was disappointed. Secretly angry that Ned couldn’t give him what he needed. He’d been building up to this attempt. All the secret pats to his ass, the hugs from behind, the little grappling wars they indulged in for fun, yet which Cole always had to win. Just like with the kiss he’d never seen coming, or the fact that Cole had romantic intentions, Ned was always a step behind what Cole wanted from him.
“I’ll suck your cock, Neddie. How about that?” Cole asked, stepping toward him with the alluring smile that always made Ned succumb to whatever antics Cole tried to pull him into.
Ned had to be the first man in the world to reject such an offer. He made a show of checking his pocket watch, the one he’d gotten from Cole. “I lost the mood. And they’ll be here any minute anyway. I’ll alert them to the situation with the captives,” he said and rushed toward Nugget.
“Ned, can’t we talk about it?” Cole asked, but at least he had the sense to put on boots before walking into the shrubs, which gave Ned enough time to climb on horseback and feel the discomfort in his rear yet again.
He tipped his hat at Cole, burning with the desire to get out of his sight. “There’s nothing to talk about. It’s all good. Watch out for scorpions.”
“Ned, don’t be like that!” Cole called out, but Ned had already ridden off, back into the scorching sun and far enough from Cole that he no longer had to keep a straight face. The muscles of his backside—which he now knew he had—felt as if they’d been bruised, and he shamefully changed position in the saddle to alleviate the unpleasant sensation somewhat.
What had they been thinking anyway? What if they’d been found in a position so very compromising? They’d had enough close calls as it was. Once, Scotch had rolled into their tent at night, and they’d barely parted from their kiss fast enough. Another time, they thought they were alone on the wagon only to find out that Mary had been napping behind some crates just as Ned was about to proposition Cole. If it weren’t for the fact that no one could fathom the possibility of what they were doing in private, Ned could have as well painted a heart with their initials on his forehead.
His ears still burned when he saw Tom sitting in the driver’s seat of the wagon ahead, but at least now he could blame his flush on physical effort. He raised his hand in greeting.
“You’re almost there. I could see the town on the horizon from the mesa,” Ned reported. “We found a good spot to camp. There’s a creek and even some trees.”
Pearl, who sat next to Tom, whistled to show her enthusiasm. “How far now? I’m parched from this sun.”
“There’s also the issue of the other campers,” Ned started, and Tom shook his head, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to discern something on the horizon.
“Campers?”
“These two vagrants. We’ve got them tied up in their wagon. We weren’t sure what to do with them, because they might come back with friends.”
Tom hummed. “Is it really good, that spot?”
“It’s got shade in the day, water, and easy access to a vantage point.”
Tom shrugged. “Then the unlucky sods chose a bad place to camp.”
Ned was afraid that would be the answer. Tom hadn’t kept himself and his gang from hanging by letting outsiders know where they stayed. Ned couldn’t wait to pry Cole out of the bastard’s bloodied hands, because he was all too aware that he himself barely recalled the faces of the vagrants he and Cole had captured. They’d been weeds on his path to justice.
Chapter 19
A crow caw.
It meant, let’s talk.
Ned put his head down over the bowl of potato peels while Mary continued her monologue. He’d drifted off, thinking of the men who Zeb had murdered just so the Gotham Boys could have this spot. One of the newbies who’d had to bury them claimed their guns, but all the other valuables had ended up in Tom’s tent. The vagrants had been unsavory men too, thieves judging by the contents of their wagon, but so were the Gotham Boys. At the end of the day, rats eating roaches was still better than rats stealing food from people’s tables.
Mary’s shrill voice became louder. “I just think I can have more than this. Back in Blessing, all the boys and men wanted me at their side. I’d hardly get breaks between dances. Won’t be any different in San Francisco,” she mused, biting her lips in front of the pocket mirror held in her dainty hand. What Ned had previously believed to be an absent-minded habit was actually a means to achieving plump, dark flesh to lure men with.